Neville's Fair Fortune
by fuckingbrianaman
Summary: Sequel to "Neville's Fountain", this story is set mostly after the end of the Final Battle. Luna can't go home just yet, and Neville impulsively invites her to stay with him. Does she feel the sparks he feels, or are they just friends?
1. One

**Authors note: This is the sequel to "Neville's Fountain", but it you don't have to read the first to understand this one, although it is suggested. Please read and review. More chapters will be coming up.**

Neville's Fair Fortune

Neville sat in the Great Hall, the sword of Gryffindor beside his plate. There was a rather large gaggle of people surrounding him and for once in his life he felt as if he had accomplished something. Only hours before, he had felt the true bravery that had him sorted into his house in his first year; only hours before he had been a hero; only hours before he had sliced of the head of He-who-must-not-be-named – _aw, hell_, he thought, _Voldemort's!_ snake, following the instructions Harry had given him before he had died. Except that Harry hadn't been dead, but it didn't matter. Neville Longbottom had had his moment.

Owls were swooping in and out of the Hall, as students and teachers alike tried to make quick correspondence with their family and friends. A large amount of students' family members had already arrived and were sitting with them. Neville had seen a certain blonde girl send a brown school owl, presumably to her father. He himself had sent an owl to his grandmother, but didn't expect a reply anytime fairly soon. She was, after all, on the run from Death Eaters. Suddenly, it hit him that the Death Eaters wouldn't be a problem ever again. _Sure, _he thought, _the Ministry'll have one hell of a time tracking them all down, and the trials will be long and complicated, but everyone is finally _free.

Time passed as he marveled in his epiphany, not really hearing the praises being thrown at him, and answering questions with a polite detachment.

Over the buzzing of the multitude of people in the Hall he heard a wonderfully familiar voice call out in its dreamy way, "Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!" For a moment he had to fight the urge to look up, but he was so hungry that it wasn't hard. Besides, he knew Luna, and she would come to him; she had an uncanny way of knowing exactly when he needed her.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Neville saw the beautiful silvery-gray eyes staring at him, their owner having just managed to push through the crowd of admirers that had flocked around him all morning. He took a swig of pumpkin juice to make sure he didn't have any sausage left in his mouth, and said, "Erm, Luna, would you come with me for a minute?" at the same time that Luna had said, "Can I ask you something?" They stared at each other for a moment, looks of surprise on each other's faces, before the blonde let out a soft laugh.

"Let's take a walk, then?" she asked in an almost whisper, nodding her head towards the grounds.

"Ok… Erm… What do I do with the sword?" he asked, motioning towards the table. Seamus Finnigan heard, and spoke up.

"I'll take it! Dean, get over here, we get to watch the sword for Neville!"

Before more people could start jostling and shoving to try to reach the ruby encrusted hilt, Seamus snatched it up, winked at Neville with his good, non-blackened eye, and disappeared into the crowd.

Neville and Luna tried to slip away unnoticed, but with his new found fan base, this proved to be easier said than done. Hannah Abbot was particularly interested in him, and was practically clinging to his arm. He didn't want to have the conversation he knew was coming – not with Luna standing right there – but there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it. Sighing, he turned to Hannah, his ex-girlfriend. He had gone out with her shortly after Christmas break, when Luna hadn't been around and he hadn't had all of his free thoughts be occupied by her. He had quite liked Hannah, but after Easter, when Ginny had disappeared and Luna was still missing, he had given up trying to make things work with Hannah. He had broken up with her, an action that Justin Finch-Fletchley had been surprisingly happy with.

Neville wanted to say:_ It's over. Please, accept it? Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I can't do it anymore. You are cute, you are clever, you are funny, but we broke up. Remember? And I told you why. You agreed that it was best, but here you are, trying to get me back. Please, just let me go._ He even took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but before he could get anywhere with it, Luna came to his rescue.

"I'm sorry, Hannah, but I really need to steal Neville for a moment. I need to ask him something, and I think Justin wants your attention." This was true. Justin was trying – rather unsuccessfully – to make his way through the crowd, his eyes trained distinctly on Hannah. "I think he fancies you," Luna declared in a matter-of-fact tone that left a blush on Hannah's rather round face. Neville took advantage of her embarrassment and detached himself from her grip, and he and Luna darted through the large amount of people milling about. He found he was laughing, remembering the look on Hannah's face.

Finally they had escaped the hall, and were soon out on the Hogwarts grounds. Without talking, the two teenagers fell in step and made their way towards the lake. From where they were they could see the giant squid floating on the surface of the water, basking in the sun.

Neville wanted to reach out and take Luna's hand and pull her in for a hug, but he didn't think she would feel the sparks he felt whenever he touched her. She would hug back and maybe even continue to hold his hand, but he knew her feelings for him were purely platonic. He even had a sneaking suspicion that she fancied Dean; he had seen him take her hand as they ran out of the Room of Requirement before the Battle. Neville's heart contracted.

They reached cliff that overlooked the lake and they each sat down, dangling their legs over the side. Luna closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sky, which was beautifully blue and mostly cloudless. Neville stared at her, entranced by the way the sun bounced off of her skin and how the tiniest smile made her look so wonderfully content. She was leaning back on her arms, and her fingers were splayed, and he had to keep fighting the urge to trace his index finger over her hand. This was the first time he had gotten a chance to really _look_ at her in months, and he realized just how much he had missed her.

"You, er, wanted to talk to me?" he asked. She turned to face him.

"I wrote to my father this morning. His reply came quickly, considering that the Death Eaters had him. Although I suppose that all of Voldemort's supporters would have fled, now that he's dead and all… Anyways, he said I can't come home when school lets out. Apparently my room – along with the Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn – has exploded. It's a real shame, that horn was extremely rare."

"I don't think I follow your point. What does the Crumpled thingy have to do with your dad not being able to take you?"

"Crumpled-Horned Snorkack, and the point is, my father has to fix our house before I can come home. He would be done before school lets out, but he has to go to Wales to find the man who sold him the Snorkack horn, because Hermione Granger said it was really an Erumpent horn."

"Why is he doing that first? Why not fix the house first?"

"The horn is more important, of course. Snorkacks are awfully rare and he hopes to write a follow-up article on them in _The Quibbler_ as soon as possible. It is alright, I just don't know where I'm going to stay. I could ask the Weasleys, except with Fred's death, I'd rather not impose." Her dreamy, faraway voice floated through the air and contrasted sharply with her words. Her eyes were as wide as always, but for the first time ever, Neville was almost positive they were shining with tears. She was looking away from him again, facing towards the lake, but he was sure she was close to crying.

Before he could think, before he could rationalize, he scooted closer to her, took her hand, and blurted out, "Why don't you stay with me and Gran?"

Luna didn't react at first, and Neville quickly regretted offering, thinking himself stupid and obvious. When she slowly turned her face to his, her eyes following, he blushed profoundly. However, a smile was spreading across her face.

" I think… I think I would love that."


	2. Two

**Author's Note: This chapter wasn't an easy one to write. I had no idea how to continue with the story, saying everything I needed to say and still sound good. I apologize for the grammatical errors in the first chapter, such as typing "of" instead of "off", which I know I did at least once. I'm also working on how often I use names, so if you have any suggestions on other grammar problems you have noticed, please let me know. Also, I used a lot of Rowling's ideas in this chapter, such as the book title **_**Hairy Snout, Human Heart**_** which is a book about a man's struggle with lycanthropy. If you want to know what I did and didn't come up with PM me. For anything else, leave a review please.**

There were no more classes for the rest of the year, an announcement that had earned some halfhearted cheers from everyone in the Great Hall when Professor McGonagall had shared the news later that same day. She had taken up the job as Headmistress while still staying the Head of Gryffindor house. _Honestly, _Neville thought, _who else would be able to take that roll? McGonagall was – is – the best for any job with that level of authority. _Slughorn was still acting as the Head of Slytherin house, and Professor Sprout had told Neville when he had gone to see her after his talk with Luna, that the arrangement was most likely permanent. She had also said that Hagrid had her vote for the Head of Gryffindor house and that Professor Flitwick would most certainly agree. He had wanted to talk to Professor Sprout about his current "situation", but he didn't know how to explain it.

Neville had written a letter to his grandmother explaining Luna's predicament, but he hadn't the gumption to actually send it yet. What if Gran said no? What if, for some reason, they couldn't take in Luna? What would he say to her? How would she take it? He was terrified that she would be mad at him, but even more so that she wouldn't care. He needed to talk to someone, anyone who would understand. Someone who was in love and someone who he considered a good friend – seeing as he didn't have an actual best friend.

He knew that Ron loved Hermione and had for years, but he also knew that Ron could be an insensitive git, quite frankly. He knew that Dean had a crush on someone, but he had no idea who it was and wasn't close enough to the boy to have that kind of conversation with him, and the same went with Seamus. That left Harry.

Neville felt that he could call Harry Potter one of his closest friends, but he didn't delude himself into thinking that he would ever be as close to the Boy Who Lived as Ron and Hermione were. Still, he needed to talk to _someone_, and Harry would probably welcome a conversation about something other than Voldemort or the numerous deaths that had happened just yesterday.

At that thought he looked up at the many bookshelves around him and sighed. He couldn't figure out why he had come here – to the library – of all places. He should be mourning Fred or Professor Lupin, or perhaps celebrating Lestrange's death which had been so long overdue; yet here he was, perusing the many volumes of books that had survived the horrible crumbling of the castle.

He chose a book at random and found, to his surprise, that he had grabbed _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. He opened the book, not caring where it landed him, and saw that he had turned to the page detailing the "_Ashwinder, M.O.M Classification: XXX. The Ashwinder is created when a magical fire is allowed to burn unchecked for too long. A thin, pale-grey serpent with glowing red eyes, it will rise from the embers of an unsupervised fire and slither away into the shadows of the dwelling in which it –_". Neville shut the book with a snap, his brain whirring at a thousand miles a minute. He vaguely remembered Hermione once saying something about Ashwinders and a play Hogwarts had once put on and that it hadn't ended well, but he could not, for the life of him, remember what had happened.

Irritated and still without any other distraction, Neville shoved the book back into its place on the shelf, being none too graceful. Why did it matter anyway? It wasn't like some Christmas pantomime that had happened years and years ago bore any relevance to his current life and situation. He continued to browse through the many volumes that Madam Price had collected over the years. _Interpreting Your Horrid Love Live: a Beginner's Guide to Love Potions_, while sounding relatively intriguing, would be no help to him. _How to Raise Kneazles for Truly Dim-witted People_; _My, Don't You Look Like a Muggle_; and _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ were all also titles he didn't think he would need to remember for the future. When he came across the library's only copy of _Toadstool Tales _he gave up and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. He couldn't think properly because he kept pushing away certain thoughts and his mind had gained quite the momentum.

Neville had only been avoiding the problem, and as soon as he was alone without anything to properly hold his attention, he found his thoughts wandering back to Luna. For a few moments he allowed himself to bask in the wonderful memories he had of their time together and ignored the dilemma at hand. He could recall the all times he had dueled with her when they were in Dumbledore's Army together, and her wonderfully brilliant mind's plan to use Thestrals as their escape from Hogwarts in their fifth year. The scattered time they had spent talking and getting to know each other better in sixth year was speckling his thought processes as well. Perhaps, most clearly of all, he could remember when he had been _this close_ to telling Luna about his parents, right after they had attempted to steal the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Perhaps he did have a best friend. Perhaps it was Luna.

Yes, Neville decided, he needed to talk to Harry.

Where would he find him? The common room seemed too obvious and besides, Harry would want his privacy after everything. Maybe he would be in their dorm, or perhaps the Great Hall or out wandering the grounds with Ron and Hermione. Neville sighed and felt his stomach rumble; he hadn't had anything to eat since his breakfast sausage that morning. _The Great Hall it is then,_ he thought with a slightly bitter smile. He really didn't want to have to look at all of those faces, deal with all of those people, but he didn't know how to get into the kitchens so the Hall would have to do.

Neville turned left, took a few staircases and shortcuts, and arrived at the Hall. The aroma of steak-and-kidney pie assaulted him and his stomach tried to claw its way out of his body via his esophagus.

The Hall was still in chaos where seating was concerned; no one was sitting at their proper house tables. Padma and Parvati Patil were both sitting with Lavender Brown and Cho Chang at the far end of the Hufflepuff table. Justin and Hannah were at the Ravenclaw table, talking animatedly with Terry Boot and Michael Corner. Neville's heart jumped pleasantly when he spotted Luna sitting with Ginny at – and he had to applaud their audacity – the Slytherin table, an act which was earning them dirty looks, mostly from Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini. Seamus and Dean were both sitting at the Gryffindor table, however, and Neville decided to play it safe and sat with them.

"– and I've told you, it doesn't matter – oh, hullo, Neville – there won't be any exams this year," Seamus was saying when Neville plopped down.

"There has to be exams, how else will we know who graduated?"

"McGonagall said no more classes! How can there be exams without classes?"

"Maybe," Neville offered, "they'll be some sort of make-up thing this summer or at the beginning of next term?" The two other boys looked at him for a moment and he became self conscious. He occupied himself with heaping some mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Yeah, that might be it, wouldn't put it past McGonagall and it'll make things easier this year…" Seamus said finally. Dean nodded and Neville relaxed.

The meal was almost normal, the three boys joking around and avoiding harsh topics, but then, when Neville had almost finished his grilled chicken, Professor McGonagall stood up and raised her hands for silence.

"Students, teachers, ladies and gentlemen, heroes, whatever the title you feel you have earned, please listen. This is not an easy thing to bring up, but something must be done about the deceased –" Here many stiffened and the atmosphere changed from slightly jovial to tense and expecting, but the new Headmistress continued.

"We cannot leave them here, there must be a proper funeral for the many who gave their lives last night, but there are too many to hold individual services. I have conversed with other members of the staff and we have decided that holding a group funeral would be best.

"If a family wishes to take the body of a loved one and hold a private service then that can be arranged, but otherwise they will be kept until the funeral –"

"What about the Death Eaters and You-know-who?" someone shouted. Neville, like many others, turned to see who it had been and found Ron and Hermione standing in the entrance of the Hall, Ron waiting for an answer to his question. McGonagall opened her mouth, but was cut off again by numerous people crying out outrageous suggestions.

"Burn them and feed the remains to the giant squid!"

"Chop them up and ship them to Azkaban!"

"Let 'em rot!"

"Give them to the giants!"

"Just let a drunken Filch handle them!"

"With a cactus!"

"SILENCE!" McGonagall roared. "The bodies will be picked up by the Ministry of Magic tomorrow morning and until then will _not be touched _by _anyone_! This includes students, teachers, and Filch alike."

"How can we trust the Ministry?" one scared looking mother asked in a quavering voice.

"Because –!" McGonagall tried to begin, but was again cut off by…

"Because all of the Death Eaters will've fled by now – all the smart ones at least." Every head snapped to the Hall's entrance and to the scarred, black haired, bespectacled boy standing there. "Any who haven't run are too stupid actually _do_ anything. Besides, Kingsley Shacklebolt is by no means stupid or a Death Eater." Having said what needed to be said, Harry turned and left. Ron and Hermione looked after him, but didn't follow. Ginny was beaming at his retreating back but she too stayed put. Neville, however, didn't.

He stood up and followed Harry, hearing McGonagall behind him trying to get everyone to stop twittering and whispering; "Er, yes, well everyone will need to stay out of the Hall when they arrive tomorrow –"

Neville trailed behind Harry as he crossed the Entrance Hall and turned down a few more corridors. He finally realized that they were headed for the owlery. "Harry, wait up!" he called.

He – Harry – turned around and slowed his pace, allowing Neville to catch up.

"Can I talk to you – erm – about something, uh, important?"

Harry stopped, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. "Look, Neville, I don't want to talk about the war. I don't want to talk about Voldemort, or Lupin, or Fred, or what happened in the forest, or Snape, or anything. Unless you want to ask about – I don't know – Cornish pixies or something, then I'm sorry, but I'm no help to you."

"It's about, erm, a girl. Luna. Her dad – well, he can't – she can't… Ok, I'm asking for girl advice."

Harry looked at him, slightly taken aback. "Luna? You are asking me for advice about… Luna?"

"Erm, I think I was about as blunt as I could be with that."

Harry laughed a bit. It wasn't much, but Neville had needed to hear it. They started walking again. "Ok, so what exactly is the situation? _That_ you weren't very clear about. Something about her father?"

Neville explained quickly, trying to not stutter or repeat himself. Harry nodded occasionally.

"Why doesn't she stay with the Weasleys? She lives really close to them, it'd be easy," he asked.

"She says it's because she doesn't want to impose, but I think it's because she doesn't want to be around mourning people. I don't think she wants to be around Hermione either, honestly. I think she's a little angry at her for… something involving a Crumple thing?"

"Why would Hermione be there?"

"I sort of assumed you and her would both be staying there, actually. Are you not?"

"I hadn't thought of that… Yeah, I suppose I'd like to… I've got nowhere else to be, do I?"

Neville had no idea what to say so he just shrugged. They were walking up the stairs to the owlery when Harry said, "You should just ask your grandmother. If you don't ask there's no chance. If you really like Luna –"

"Trust me, I do."

"– then you had best try for her. You never know how long you've got left." They had reached the top and Harry was looking out a window with a slightly pained look on his face. Somehow, conversation had swerved to Death. In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, Neville asked the only thing he could think of:

"Who're you sending a letter to?"

"My aunt. She'll want to know that it's safe to come out of hiding now."

"Er, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She'll probably freak out when the owl comes flying out the floo… Wish I could see Uncle Vernon's face, bet he pops a blood vessel…"

Neville, thoroughly confused, thought it best to end the conversation there. "Well, see you, Harry," he said as the other boy pulled a letter from his pocked and coaxed down a school owl. Neville turned around and made his way back to the common room, determined to write his gran a letter and mention that Luna's father happened to be the writer of _The Quibbler_…

It was a wonderfully written magazine, after all.


	3. Three

**Author's Note: Alright, first things first. The song does not belong to me, J.K. Rowling wrote it for the first book but it was cut. She published it on her website under "Extras" and I found it and thought it brilliant. Obviously, I just had to put it in somewhere. You may think it isn't necessary, but I think it is; you just have to love Luna's oddities, after all. Second, towards the end of the chapter my writing style changes a bit. I apologize, but I was reading some Markus Zusak and his style is just so amazing, and I guess it leaked into my work a bit. Sorry for the change, but it is my favorite part of the whole chapter. Anywho, enjoy (and review)!**

When Neville got back to the common room, he remembered that he had already written the letter. He took it out and read it, occasionally making faint noises of disgust. Deciding it was utter trash, he ripped it up and threw it in the fire. Where was his Gryffindor courage now? _Probably sulking somewhere in the greenhouse_, he thought with a slight trace of humor.

One quill, half a foot of parchment, and a few minutes worth of procrastination later, and Neville was seated by the fire, testing out his persuasive skills.

_Dear Gran,_

_I was talking to Luna Lovegood – you remember, I've mentioned her – and she's got nowhere to go after school lets_

He scratched that out.

_I'm thinking about this girl and I was wondering_

Scratch.

_Do you remember in fifth year when we broke into the Ministry of Magic?_

Scratch.

_There are a lot of kids around here who have no home to go to after school lets out. I realize how incredibly lucky I am that you have given me such a wonderful house to return to when all is said and done. I feel really awful for Luna though, her dad can't take her. I'm fuzzy on the details, but his house blew up and to fix it he has to go to Wales for a while or something_ (he scratched the "or something" too)_. Anyways, I was wondering if we could take her in for a bit. I know that everything has just evened itself out; with You-know-who's _(scratch that)_ Voldemort's death, but that shouldn't mean that we don't have any healing processes to go through. Luna needs someone to stay with her; she is so close to breaking. With everything that has gone on, I just want to make things easier for her. After all, we have so much. Why shouldn't we share with someone who has earned it? _

_She is a brilliant witch and she can be completely hilarious, you just have to get to know her first. Honestly, I think you'll love her. I know I do _(ok, what possesed him to say that? Scratch, scratch, scratch!)_. A bit of humor is exactly what our house needs, and Luna has an uncanny ability to make the whole room brighter. She is brave; she was one of the members of Dumbledore's Army and she went with us to the Ministry of Magic. She fought in the war, and was captured by Death Eaters to try to get her dad to cooperate. You might not remember, but her father is the editor of _The Quibbler_. She has always been on Harry's side and she just deserves a little time to relax._

_Professor Sprout sends her love._

_Please write back as soon as possible and let me know if we can take Luna in. _

_Love, _

_Neville_

He re-read the letter a few times and decided it would have to do. After copying it over to another sheet of parchment, being extra careful this time, he rolled it up, sealed it, and went off to deliver it.

* * *

Headed back to the common room, Neville heard an odd song made from a blend of a rather lovely voice and a rather _horrid_ voice. The lyrics were strange and hard to understand, but they spiked his interest. He took a few detours and tried to follow the sound. In front of a broom cupboard he found its source: Luna and Nearly Headless Nick, singing a ballad in unison. There was a small crowd of people around them, laughing at the apparently humorous lyrics. He listened as the song came to an end and the people roared for more. This time around, Neville paid more attention to the words.

"_It was a mistake any wizard could make  
Who was tired and caught on the hop  
One piffling error, and then, to my terror,  
I found myself facing the chop.  
Alas for the eve when I met Lady Grieve  
A-strolling the park in the dusk!  
She was of the belief I could straighten her teeth  
Next moment she'd sprouted a tusk.  
I cried through the night that I'd soon put her right  
But the process of justice was lax;  
They'd brought out the block, though they'd mislaid the rock  
Where they usually sharpened the axe.  
Next morning at dawn, with a face most forlorn  
The priest said to try not to cry,  
'You can come just like that, no, you won't need a hat,'  
And I knew that my end must be nigh.  
The man in the mask who would have the sad task  
Of cleaving my head from my neck,  
Said 'Nick, if you please, will you get to your knees,'  
And I turned to a gibbering wreck.  
'This may sting a bit' said the cack-handed twit  
As he swung the axe up in the air,  
But oh the blunt blade! No difference it made,  
My head was still definitely there.  
The axeman he hacked and he whacked and he thwacked,  
'Won't be too long', he assured me,  
But quick it was not, and the bone-headed clot  
Took forty-five goes 'til he floored me.  
And so I was dead, but my faithful old head  
It never saw fit to desert me,  
It still lingers on, that's the end of my song,  
And now, please applaud, or you'll hurt me._"

This time, as the song ended, Neville laughed along with everyone else. The song was clearly about how Nearly Headless Nick had died and it was a story that he – Neville – hadn't ever heard before. _Wow_, he thought, _his death must have been more painful than watching the Chudley Cannons play…!_

Luna and Nick sang the song twice more before Peeves came swooping in, pelting students with owl droppings and singing:

"_We did it! We bashed them, wee Potty's the one.  
And Voldy's gone moldy so now let's have fun!_"

The students scattered and Peeves was chased off by one very angry Nearly Headless Nick, leaving Neville rolling with laughter and Luna watching with a mild curiosity.

After composing himself, Neville asked Luna, "Did he write that himself?"

"Who? Peeves? Yes, I imagine he did; he is quite witty."

"No, I mean Nick."

"Oh yes, he did write that. Isn't it clever? I thought so… It's also very fun to sing. Would you like me to teach it to you?"

"Er… Maybe some other time? Look, I just wrote to my Gran to check and see if it's okay for you to stay with us. I'm not sure how long it'll take for her to write back… She's on the run and such… Anyways, I – erm – I don't know – I, uh – just thought you should know?"

Luna nodded. "Thank you, Neville. I'll understand if she says no."

"I won't. I think it would be right rude of her to say no, actually. I – er – tried to tell her what happened in a way that she – well, I sort of skimmed over some bits, but she'll know the gist of it. And I mentioned that your dad is the editor of _The Quibbler_. I figured that might help a bit."

"You really want me to stay with you." It was a statement, and Neville was sure he detected a hint of surprise in it. He pointed this out, and Luna did something _very_ uncharacteristic of Luna.

She hesitated.

"I… um… Well, I didn't really think you meant it. I thought maybe you were just feeling pity for 'Loony Lovegood.' I didn't expect you to go through such lengths to get your gran to say it was okay, in all honesty. I thought perhaps Wrackspurts had flown about in your head and fogged up your judgment."

For a moment Neville just looked at her, and then he started laughing again. Not loud raucous laughter like before, but slightly nervous and disbelieving laughter. Luna could be so cute sometimes.

"Of course I really meant it! Why wouldn't I? I love you…'re company…!" He played it safe and stopped talking. He had just come _this close_ to spilling his secret, and who knew what else would come spouting out his mouth next? Luna didn't seem to notice though, and simply shook her head.

"Neville Longbottom, you never cease to amaze me," she said before walking away, leaving behind her very confused friend.

* * *

Neville awoke the next morning to the sound of bickering. He groaned, rolled over, and punched his pillow a few times before giving up and climbing out of the fourposter. He half expected to see Harry and Seamus rowing again, but it was Dean who was snapping at the Irishman. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to have just gotten out of bed.

"Well maybe I have the right to date whomever I chose!" Seamus shouted at Dean.

"Did you ever _once_," Dean shouted back, "think to ask me if I cared?!"

"No! No I bloody well didn't! Because I knew the answer and I knew that it wouldn't change a thing!"

Neville wondered where Ron was.

"I don't even think we're fighting about the same thing! You don't understand what I'm trying to say!"

"'Say' my arse! You aren't trying to _say_ anything! All you're doing is shouting and not getting my point! I'm not going to sit around and let myself have no bloody love life because my best mate is being a complete git!"

Maybe he had heard the argument when it first started brewing and ran while he still could.

"Oh, so now I'm a git, am I? Because I don't want you to snog Romilda Vane? How is that even logical?"

"Logic? You want to talk about logic? You don't even _like_ the damn bird and yet, here you are, biting my head off because you caught me snogging her! If you want some logic, stop acting so jealous over a girl you don't even fancy!"

Neville couldn't help but wish he had woken up sooner and had had Ron's good sense.

"YOU ARE SO BLOODY THICK SOMETIMES!" Dean exploded before storming out of the dorm room.

"AT LEAST I CAN GET A GIRL!" Seamus yelled at his retreating back and the swinging door. He stood a moment longer, chest heaving, before looking at Harry and Neville, as if realizing that they were there for the first time. "What the bloody hell are you lot staring at?" he snapped. The Irish turned and did a wonderful impersonation of the late Professor Snape and stalked to the lavatory, slamming the door behind him.

Harry and Neville just looked at each other for a moment. The former's eyes clearly read, "_What in the name of Merlin's most baggy Y-fronts was that about?_" The latter's replied, "_Search me._" The two boys rose and got dressed without saying a word. The silence started out as tense, but soon faded to awkward, and then finally to comfortable.

Neville couldn't help but think that sometimes silence really was golden.


	4. Four

**Author's Note: Holy crap! It's been ages since I've updated this story! Okay, so I'm sorry! I had that horrid little disease called Writer's Block. I think I may have overcome it, but I'm so sorry for the lag! Please forgive me? And review?**

Harry and Neville walked down to breakfast together in the same state that the left the dorm in: Silence.

Neville was thinking about how close to cracking everyone seemed to be. There were people in the halls who were laughing, crying, arguing, and they even passed one full on fight (Peeves was floating over the two scuffling boys, who looked like Hufflepuffs, dropping scrambled eggs on them and cackling). How people were holding it together, he had no idea, but no one seemed to be too keen on the topic of death.

How could Dean and Seamus let themselves be fighting _now_, of all times? What, exactly, had happened? Neville was of the firm belief that they needed to talk to each other and sort their rubbish out.

But if Dean didn't fancy Romilda Vane, who did he? Was he still in love with Ginny? Or was it Lavender Brown? Perhaps he fancied Cho Chang, even though she was (last he had heard) still with Michael Conner… But then, Dean wouldn't know that – he hadn't been at Hogwarts all year. Maybe he liked smart girls.

Maybe he liked Luna.

Suddenly Neville became aware of the fact that Harry was no longer by his side, but had stopped a few meters back to let Ginny catch up. Deciding he didn't want to intrude on the happy couple, he kept walking.

He refused to return to pondering about Dean's love life, and instead took the time to appreciate how quiet and empty the hallways were. In fact, the more he looked, the less he saw. The entire castle seemed to be subdued, muted – numb, even. The few brave souls who had taken it upon themselves to smile in the face of their grief were more like flickering matches than the roaring fires they sought in vain to imitate. How could he have missed this? Death still hung over the demolished doors of Hogwarts, seeping the life out of everyone like a dementor. There had been fifty bodies here; who knew how many were in the outside world, just waiting to be discovered. Was his gran still alive? The man she was seeing on and off – did he make it? What of the grocer? The librarian? The Healers?

An uncomfortable thought stopped Neville in his tracks as his throat constricted painfully around a lump that had risen there without warning. His stomach felt too empty, as if it were about to implode. How could he have forgotten about them?

His own parents?

Waves of guilt crashed onto him, and the need to vomit was overwhelming. Were they alright? Did they even survive? His shallow life here at Hogwarts had driven the things that really mattered from his mind, and he had let it without even putting up a fight. Dean and Seamus's row was petty compared to his mum and dad. _How could I have forgotten?_

"Neville, are you alright?" A voice penetrated his guilty musings, and Neville looked around to find Hermione staring at him with concern.

"Yeah, 'm fine… Just remembered something…" he said, distractedly. Hadn't Bellatrix Lestrange mentioned his parents during the battle? What had she said, _what had she said?_

Hermione was talking, but Neville wasn't listening. His thoughts were miles and miles away, in a room in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Had anyone told them what had happened? Was his mum worried about him? He could almost see them, lying in beds that just about touched, reaching out shaking hands to comfort one another as the walls crumbled around them…

"Hermione," Neville said, cutting her off mid-sentence, "has there been any news about St. Mungo's in _The Prophet_?

She looked slightly taken aback, but she didn't ask questions, bless her. "No, none that I've seen… But I haven't gotten today's yet, either," she hastened to add once she saw his expression tighten. "Come on, the post should be arriving soon," she said, tugging at his sleeve. He followed her, hardly thinking about it. If something had happened to them…

The food he found before him had no smell whatsoever and he ate it mechanically, only for something to do. His mind was spiraling out of control as visions of Lestrange bursting into the long-term ward and finishing what she had started plagued his thoughts. He had the faint impression of people talking to him, but he didn't try to comprehend their words. He needed some sort of assurance that the hospital was still standing, and even then he would have to see his parents in the flesh before his worries were completely abated. All of his life Neville had felt responsible for his mum and dad, and now it was as if he had finally let them down – right when it mattered most.

When the flurry of wings finally alerted him to the arrival of the morning post, Neville dropped his fork and watched Hermione, who was looking up towards the owls. A large tawny landed in front of her clutching a copy of _The Prophet_. She paid it, and it flew off.

Hermione was an excellent reader, Neville knew this, but every page she turned seemed to take longer and longer. "Hold on," she said, "I'm scanning it." He held his breath.

"Oh! Of course," she exclaimed, tearing through the pages to the back. Neville had no idea what she was doing, but he was in no state to try to puzzle it out. Hermione's eyes darted back and forth, giving no clue as to what she was reading or thinking. Guilt and fear were wrenching at his gut, but Neville sat and tried to be patient.

"Oh thank Merlin," she shouted at long last, slamming the paper down onto the table. It was open to the obituaries.

"What? Thank Merlin for what?"

"They aren't in there," she said with a satisfied smile.

"Who?"

"Your parents, of course! They aren't in there. They're still alive."

"Wait, what?" Neville was confused. How had she known? He was sure he hadn't mentioned them at any point, but he couldn't be completely positive. "How'd you know?"

"Well it was obvious, wasn't it?" When he only blinked at her, she pushed the paper his way. "There, see for yourself. There is no Alice or Frank Longbottom listed.

He did, and there wasn't. Neville scanned the pages twice, and the only Alice he saw was Sasha Alice Goldbrook, who died of a heart attack. There wasn't a Frank at all, and certainly no Longbottoms. Relief surged through him.

"Hullo, there everyone," a familiar dreamy voice said behind him. Neville stood and spun around to face it, completely giddy.

"Luna, guess what! My parents aren't in the paper!"

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Did they do something?"

Neville took her hands, barely noticing when she didn't pull away. "No, it's good! Excellent, really. It means they aren't dead!"

"Well that _is_ grand! Does _The Prophet_ only write about dead people now?"

He laughed and pulled her in for a tight hug. She didn't squirm or give any sign of being uncomfortable; in fact, Neville could even feel her hugging him back. He released her, but couldn't stop grinning. "They're alright," he said, loving the feel of the words on his tongue. "They're alright!"

The returning smile Luna gave him made his heart swell, and the tiny knot of worry that had still been nestled in his stomach disappear completely.

**Author's Note: Wow, okay, so this chapter was completely short and filled with nothing except for a worried Neville… Sorry, but that's all I got right now. Hey, you'd better be pleased I managed anything at all! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've updated sooner, I know! But it's here, and you've read it. Now please review? If you're really lucky, you'll get another chapter before I go on vacation on the 19****th****, but I wouldn't bet on it. Thank you, lovelies!**


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